


unlikely

by Sawadoot



Series: tsuna's nest [3]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, theyre a bunch of losers making their way to ultimate dumbass status, witchy tsuna in modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sawadoot/pseuds/Sawadoot
Summary: Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep pushing forward. Stop glancing back.





	1. red string: part 1

It’s ever the oddest occurrence when the Sawada family phone rings nearly off its hook midday. On a Sunday afternoon without any clue as to who it could be. Tsuna juggles it between his slippery fingers before finally pressing the call button and picking up while holding the phone between the crook of his shoulder and cheek.

 

“Sawada residence! Tsunayoshi here, may I ask who’s calling?”

 

“Ah―” He knows this voice. He also loathes this voice for what’s coming next. “My little Kyo― _ Tsuna-chan! _ How’s my favorite daughter?” The absolute madman did it. He managed to ruin his son’s entire afternoon within a word limit of four. Iemitsu probably thinks Tsuna is still six and afraid of small dogs. The last one is still semi-true, but in his defense the Chihuahua down the street is  _ mean. _

 

“I’m sorry? Who are you?” Tsuna clears his throat, resisting the urge to slam the receiver back down and abruptly hang up. The wail on the other line makes him wish he had. Iemitsu’s scandalized voice is grating at best. “It’s your papa!” 

 

The Vongola mansion incident was one thing, he’s never been a fully invested parent, more like a drop the check on the doorstep and hightail it out nonexistent kind of father who only calls once every several years and usually then it’s because he wants something. Apparently, through a fault of his own, he hadn’t known that his son is  _ a son. _ And the course of action he took, talk of the banned deadname amongst other things, were what had resulted in a harder throwdown than Tsuna had intended. And the one he’d learned Italian for and  _ traveled all the way to headquarters in Italy  _ was already a planned landmine. 

 

Seeing as he set the man straight no more than three weeks ago, well, that takes the cake, doesn’t it?

 

“I don’t have a Dad. He became one with the stars.” More whining on the other end.

 

“Can I at least speak to your Mom? My wife?”

 

“She’s sleeping. Also, you said you’d visit her? I don’t want to see your face, but Mom does, has been for weeks. Still no touchdown in nowheresville Japan?” A heavy sigh punctuates Tsuna's irritation. The silence was reigning from Iemitsu which doesn’t surprise him. “Don’t call back. Come and visit her.” And with that, he punches ‘end call,’ staring at the silent receiver. Yeah, that’s what he thought. His skin itches and the latex feels tight.

 

“Lambo! Get your shoes on!” An affirmative mutter from the other room. “We’re going to rent a movie! And get some snacks.” The least Iemitsu can do is put Nana-Son movie night under his dime. The door slams a little too hard on their way out.

* * *

  
  
  


“You seem down today.” Tsuna shrugs, keeping his face chin-level with the edge of his desk. Papers spread over the spiteful words etched into the wood. He’d be comfortable with letting his mind disassociate all of the final periods, drifting in and out of things that are or aren’t, maybe to better places. Where he was born in a sound body, and God wasn’t attempting to shank him every second of the day.

 

Now, Haru is a nice person. She’s over the top, but good at heart. And her intentions are genuine. But Tsuna wants her to  _ leave him alone. _ She doesn’t know his history, and the longer this can be kept up the better. Only his ribcage hurts from gym class, and he can’t wait to soak in a bath where his insides won’t rattle. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

 

Haru’s eyes narrow suspiciously.  _ Do not. _ “You’re lying.”  _ Maybe so. _ Tsuna resists the urge to drag his hand down the slope of his face in constant suffering. “No―” So his reply is a bit late, but she’s always had a habit of prying. This is not pry-worthy subject matter. And best she can a secret is not well-kept inside the hands of Miura. Hence the common knowledge that he owns three stuffed snakes named Swamp, Melon, and Lemon Drop. Things circulate fast in tiny towns as it would seem.

 

Not that he's surprised. Nowadays people avoid him like the plague. Or trip him in the hallways for a snicker. Even useless things can become useful was a wish he'd abandoned long ago.

 

“It's insomnia again.” He plays it off, pretends it wasn't the racing thoughts and initial fear of Iemitsu coming home. And taking every spare second to holler his deadname where all of Namimori can hear. It's not enough that at ten-years-old they were practically shunned until he was almost eleven. Haru won't budge. But neither will he.

 

“Tsuna-san. You seem so _sad.”_ He is. “I want to find a way to cheer you up― aha!― And I know just what to do!” Haru claps her hands gleefully, pivoting in circles. Tsuna can't mentally keep up, but she seems just fine with answering her questions. Tsuna misses his hat with all its convenience of pulling the brim over his eyes. 

 

He sighs, low and long, “Okay.” The door beside his desk is already empty. And he's all alone once again.

 

It's not for the first time. _I don't mind,_ Tsuna sobers. But he does. Empty classrooms, words etched into polished wood, papers spilling all over the floors in a shower of spiteful phrases. It's a little funny. But mostly very sad. Dredging these empty feelings, he pushed away his desk with a loud scrape, one by one carefully removing the loose leaflets that cover nasty words. Most of which are probably correct, cramming them in his bag Tsuna takes in deep breaths.

 

_ In, and out. In, and out. One, two, three, in, and out. _

 

When his breathing steadies as it always does eventually, the bell is already ringing, signaling the end of classes and Hibari’s terrifying mantra of, “get the fuck out of my school,” which they might as well make the bell sound instead of something taken from a bell tower.

 

He almost forgets about Gokudera. Almost. Speak of the devil, he skids around the corner, eyes lighting up in relief when he spots Tsuna and before the kid can even say, “hi,” Hayato wraps his arms around his waist and  _ hauls _ his entire body behind Tsuna. They almost stumble, almost meaning Gokudera has enough sense to stop leaning his full weight on Sawada.

 

_ “Tenth!”  _ A desperate hiss into his ear has Tsuna pushing Hayato away by the cheek though his grip remains firm. “What? What happened?” Forgive Tsuna if he fails to appreciate the skinship of being squeezed like a boa constrictor in the partially empty hallway. Gokudera’s fingers prod into his side and Tsuna yelps. 

 

“Help me.” Hayato sounds so pitiful; arms wrapped desperately around his friend like Tsuna is the only one who can protect him. “Call off your stupid friend.” 

 

“Which stupid fr―” Haru rounds the corner at top speed looking disheveled. She skids to a stop upon spotting a genuinely terrified looking Hayato behind Tsuna’s limp body, dangling an inch off the ground. “Oh,  _ that _ stupid friend.”

 

“She wants to recruit me for her sleepover― thing? And when I said, ‘no,’ she wouldn't stop chasing me across the school!” Gokudera is eyeing her like a hawk. Untrusting of her and chances are if Haru takes another step forward then he's going to flee. 

 

The closer she gets the further Tsuna is hauled backward as a human shield and teddy bear. “Can I have Tsuna back?”

 

Yamamoto is around the corner, practice bag in hand.

 

“No.” Both Gokudera and Haru say flatly.

 

“Sad.” Takeshi fakes a sniffle. “I guess I'll just… TAKE HIM BY FORCE!” Hayato and Haru both scream, right into Tsuna’s ear mind you, as Takeshi charges them with a screech owl noise and it mixes with the screams, echoing down mostly empty corridors and bouncing off of the walls, lockers, and paneled ceiling. 

 

In their shock (fear) Takeshi swoops through. That's how Tsuna finds himself over Takeshi’s shoulder like a heavy sack of potatoes, who are by now apathetic to their situation, sprinting across the schoolyard with Hayato and Haru at their heels. Both are demanding their friend back for different reasons. Gokudera for protection from Haru, and Haru because she wants everyone to participate in a cheer-up cuddle pile.

 

“Don't any of you guys ever get tired?” Chin propped in hand; Tsuna watches another failed attempt at snatching the sleeve of his blazer unfolds. Skull rattling around like an empty pinball machine from all this high-speed chase.

 

“Nope!” Takeshi quips, the sharp left jars Tsuna’s cheek against a solid shoulder. He feels like a ragdoll tossed around so many times especially when Haru gives his blazer such a hard yank that he's sure it'll tear and then it'll have to end up sewn clumsily. By the end of this year, he'll look like a scarecrow with his clothes all tattered this way.

 

Haru shrieks after a near stumble. “Give Tsuna-san baaaaack! We're supposed to have a big blanket fort cuddle pile to erase his sadness and his doubts!”

 

Takeshi screeches to a halt. The other two come crashing after. They hit the ground with a series of “oof” and “augh”s. It's hard to be sad when you have three friends sprawled on top of you in a mess of tangled limbs, and they're all laughing, though Gokudera’s sounds more like a wheeze. “You all suck.” There isn't any bite in Tsuna’s words.

 

“But you love us!” Haru declares, crawling to the top of the heap. She plants a kiss to Tsuna’s forehead watching his cheeks burn pink, the corner of his mouth doing that slight twitch when he's embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right.” On the school lawn, Miura got her cuddle pile after all.

 

“Oh shit, my bag!” Tsuna bolted up, smacking foreheads with Hayato in the process and leaving them both winded and for lack of better words, dazed. “Oh, gee, sorry Gokudera-kun!” He scrambles to place his palm over the placating bruise starting to form on his friend’s forehead. 

 

“It's no bother, Tenth,” Gokudera says, cheeks warming beneath Tsuna’s hands. “You guys are disasters.” Haru sighs, motherly, Takeshi can wholeheartedly agree. “You're not so well off either.” Tsuna snarked, struggling amongst the pile to rise. 

 

Ignoring Takeshi’s, “oooooooh!!” He turned heel and hightailed it back to the school. 

* * *

  
  
  


There's nothing quite so terrifying as a grown adult hitman handing over your bookbag. This will unquestionably end up marked on his bucket list of Impossible But Suddenly Possible Things. Many never before thought events have been occurring recently. This one will secure its spot amongst the top ten. Reborn holds out the bag, outstretched in his extended arm. Tsuna blinks at him, not daring to accept the strap.

 

“Are you going to just stand there like an idiot?”

 

“Uh-huh.”  _ Wasn't Reborn fucking off in capital Italy?  _

 

“I wouldn't call it fucking off, more like maintaining my status, but we'll have plenty of time to fix that loose tongue of yours.” Tsuna’s hands flew to protect his mouth; he'd said it out loud of course. But plenty of time? For what? Wait, “how did you get inside my school?” 

 

Reborn rolls his eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. “Entering a public school is as easy as breathing, useless-Tsuna,” The boy scoffs at his wordplay. “And when I'm done, you'll feel the same way.”

 

Tsuna doesn't like where this is leading. “Done with what?”

 

Reborn is grinning no differently than a Cheshire cat. “Dear old dad sent me to make you into a Vongola boss and usually, I'd say no way, but it would seem you're the only surviving heir," The silence was so static a pin could’ve dropped two rooms down and heard which is comparable to the flow of constant chatter from only fifteen minutes before. There are a grand twenty-three seconds of quiet. 

Then Tsuna wrestles his bookbag from Reborn’s grip and swings it full-force at the mildly surprised hitman.


	2. red string: part 1 & 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3

Three additional bruises are spanning across his arms, rather large and very unsightly decorated in yellow, blue, purples and so forth. Each categorized into three preeminent events taking place amongst the humdrum of his fourteen-year-old life.

 

The first is somewhere between where his collarbone meets the shoulder. That's from Reborn. As it would turn out, Tsuna's bookbag hit him incredibly hard in the ribcage, and Reborn chopped his shoulder as retaliation. Which was hard enough to bruise. He's been staring at it for the past two days almost obsessively.

 

The second is near his wrist. After Lambo nearly ran into the street while he was picking the kid up from school and Tsuna moved so fast to grab him that he cracked his wrist on the gate.

 

The third, he'd instead not fancy to think about too much. His ears turn red just recalling that incident. It's better off that way, mulling over a likely misunderstanding. And now his cheeks are pinkening beneath the broad stretch of his hat. It's a family heirloom. Passed down throughout Nana’s family tree for four or something generations. Tsuna hadn't paid much attention to Nana’s words upon receiving it.

 

Her family had owned an apothecary before she met and eventually wedded Iemitsu. It was a family run establishment before the old age of her parents shut their doors. Tsuna likes stories of the potions and remedies created within those walls. Wormwart tales always promise a good laugh at the end.

 

Today is not one of those storytelling days. It's late afternoon after classes are over and Tsuna stands barefoot in his front yard wearing shorts and a hoodie. The pulled weeds in his left hand mangled beyond recognition via fist.

 

And Sawada Iemitsu is smiling brightly at him from the gate.

 

There wasn't much thought put into the action. It's a split second in between when the man opens his mouth, probably to say something about his daughter Kyoko, which Tsuna is _not,_ so without further ado reacting on pure instinct he launches that handful of weeds into Iemitsu’s face. Hightailing it through the front gate barefoot hurts but Tsuna is so desperate to leave he can't bring himself to care. Iemitsu shouts something he can't hear because his heart is hammering so loudly and his legs have already carried him halfway down the block.

 

Not today or any other day. Tsuna isn't ready for this, and he doesn't think he could ever be.

 

Unfortunately, the lack of shoes limits his choices of refuge, and it's not like he can walk into an establishment of any kind without flip-flops at the very least he must look so stupid, feet all scuffed and limping. But at least he didn't have to hear his deadname. It isn't enough that Sasagawa of his class is named Kyoko. Although they've only spoken twice and she's a lovely person. It's the name that causes too much discomfort. They could be friends; it's just hard to digest.

 

These things in mind he settles for one of Namimori’s more reclusive ponds. Iemitsu hasn't been to Namimori since he was what? Six or seven? He probably won't be found, and that thought alone is enough to ease some of the pressure in his chest as sweat rolls in tiny beads across his nose and forehead. He'll have to return home sooner or later. Preferably later as in Tsuna climbing through his bedroom window at Two in the morning. He thinks of his Mother, fawning over him in her bedridden state and doesn't think the anger he feels is justified.

 

So Tsuna will wait. He waits until the early evening noises of traffic fade into chirping crickets and the night breeze both tickles his nose and chills his bones. But he can't bring himself to stand up. So he waits some more. Until almost everything is dead quiet, listening to the frogs croaking. The soft ripples of the pond are what finally lull Tsuna to sleep out under the open stars that blink sadly down at him.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” A poke to his cheek startled him awake. In his blurred, half-asleep state Tsuna sees no one, not a soul. Fear eased by exhaustion makes it easy to shut his eyes and drift back to sleep amongst the grass and pond-life. Incoherently his thoughts tell him it would be cool to become a frog. Yeah, he'd agreed, that would be awesome. Tsuna falls back asleep listing the steps it would take to become a frog.

 

Until someone lifts him by the crook of his elbow and suddenly in between dangling like a limp noodle and looking like a surprised cat, Tsuna is fighting mad. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tsuna's fingers are digging into the wrist of whoever holds him at their mercy and in a blind scrabble to gain control he can't process who it could be, whether it's out to hurt him or not. “For such a small guy you've got quite the grip!”

 

Larger, crooked fingers pry Tsuna’s death grip off one-by-one. All he can do coming down from an adrenaline high is stare wide-eyed up at the speaker.

 

Behold, Punchy Sasagawa in the flesh. Oh, god.

 

“Uh―” Tsuna started smartly. And against all the odds the older Sasagawa sibling _beamed._ He pulled Sawada up the rest of the way to correctly right himself, clapping him on both shoulders and looking perfectly ecstatic to the point Tsuna feels sweat gathering near the back of his collar. That's the look of a man on a mission; Reborn had that same look yesterday which can only mean trouble or a minor inconvenience.

 

“We need more energetic guys like you! I'm Sasagawa Ryohei,” _Yeah, I know._ “And I want to invite you to join the boxing club formally; it's radical! Dare I even say extreme!” With Ryohei beaming at him like a literal embodiment of the sun it's kind of hard to say no. But that kind of pressure has never stopped him before; if he let it, then he'd be cooking at Haru’s house every evening and official classroom cleaner. So without further ado, “no thanks. I'm already in the baseball club.”

 

Ryohei’s expression almost makes him want to take those words back. Almost.

 

“I'm not giving up on you! My super special convincing tactic begins now. We're gonna go to my house for breakfast.” He's a lot stronger than Tsuna, terrifyingly noted as he stumbles behind and eventually gives up to be dragged several blocks away. He kind of wishes he'd turned into a frog after all.

 

Soon they're standing in front of a two-story cream-colored house with green shutters and an all too familiar feeling of dread beginning to coil inside his gut. The house itself is charming with a tiny vegetable garden off to the side and round well-trimmed bushes allotted by scattered wildflowers. Picture perfect actually. It's what's in a name. In the Sasagawa household, there's no way to avoid his classmate nor hearing his deadname. Her face strikes him as terrifying when they enter the kitchen grass stained and Tsuna giving up on keeping in pace by letting himself be dragged along because he knows Ryohei will open his mouth and―

 

“Kyoko I brought a guest for breakfast!” Yeah.

 

Tsunayoshi hates how he flinches, sure that isn’t his name, but he can’t help but answer to it after all this time. Neither seems to notice his discomfort though. Kyoko’s face lights up entirely as if Ryohei had just poured a sack of gold over the breakfast table, “Sawada-kun! I didn’t know you were friends with my brother!”

 

“I didn’t either.” Tsuna feels terrible for how that kind of slips out. If Kyoko minds she shows no indication, instead, turning back to the oven and working thoughtfully over the pan of frying eggs which upon closer inspection contained various vegetables and toppings. Omelets, Tsuna reminds himself. They must be a fan of western-style breakfasts. It smells good at least, and his stomach gurgles in protest to having skipped both lunch and dinner the day prior.

 

“Do you need any help?” Kyoko seems surprised, Ryohei’s grin widens the permanent dimples excitedly in his cheeks stretching thin. Jesus, the dude’s face looks like it could split at any moment, he’s like the sun. “I’ve nearly finished but if you want to set the table? I don’t trust Ryo-nii not to break the plates.” Tsuna’s shit-eating grin met with a stern pout from Ryohei. “I’m not _that_ bad!” His protests fall on deaf ears.

 

It’s when they’re a few bites into breakfast that Kyoko clears her throat causing Tsuna to raise his head from where he’d taken tiny bites and tried to stave off the feeling of sickness not caused by her delicious omelet. Mental note to make one for Mom tomorrow. Iemitsu can create his damn breakfast, god, just thinking about him makes Tsuna think he’s about to turn green. “I’m glad we finally get to talk like this! I wanted to catch you earlier this week actually, but you seemed like you were busy so―” He feels a tad guilty for avoiding her. “But Hana, Haru, and a couple of other people are planning on going out for cakes today, and I wanted to invite you!” Kyoko twists the button on her sleeve looking impossibly sheepish as if he’d say no. And that’s what Tsuna opened his mouth to say, but all that came out was, “why?”

 

Her face deepened into a flushed pink. He doesn’t know what to make of that reaction.

 

Ryohei kept shoveling down his food, watching their interaction closely. “This is going to sound so stupid but― I’ve wanted to be friends with you for a while now, Haru-chan is always going on and on about how much she loves you and giving you makeovers,” Tsuna made a choking sound. “I, um, think you sound like a sweet person. And I could use― nicer friends…” Ah. She looks down at her lap, head lowered. Tsuna perks up. On the one hand, he’s a nosey bitch and wants to know what happened, who was involved, if there was drama. But on the other hand, he has enough common sense (read: self-preservation) to know to pry into sensitive matters without a prompt isn’t a welcome action.

 

Ugh, goddamn having human emotion and empathy. “I like cake.” That’s all he says, but she looks to be one second away from lunging across the table and throwing her arms around him which Tsuna would rather Kyoko not do. He can do it, right? It’s just a few hours, and no one knows him well enough to call him Kyoko too? They had better not. “Oh my god, you will?!”

 

“Language,”  Ryohei reprimands around a mouthful of eggs. “Yeah. I don’t have any cake at home anyway.” Tsuna decidedly pushes his plate away, ignoring her reprimanding Mom-stare. “Good! We need to feed you more anyway.”

 

Excuse you? Tsuna is _not_ that skinny no matter what Takeshi-kun or Hibari-san told him just last week in unison. He’ll eat their livers. And their souls. The rest of breakfast is Tsuna sulking at both the siblings, and by the end of it, Ryohei becomes big brother while Kyoko becomes a pain in his ass. It’s a suitable type of sibling-like pain but the days to come are going to be more eventful than ever.

* * *

 

“So you want me to skip the cake and go fistfight you, a grown adult, in my backyard. Are you aware there are kids here, _I am one of the children here.”_ He skipped classes today. Well, not ditched them entirely, more like went home and changed into his school uniform and booked it to school two periods late and five fatal hits from Hibari into the day. When he finally _did_ get home after deciding not to initiate a stealth mission just like this morning because it’s ridiculous that he can’t even head to his room without caution, Iemitsu wasn’t there. But Reborn was. And Tsuna still isn’t going to be another powerful crime syndicate nor is he going to quote on quote ‘succeed the First as an heir of direct bloodline and bring the Vongola to its glory days,’ that’s ridiculous he’s not even out of high school yet.

 

 

And yet here they are. Reborn is having to be fifty-something years old and stating that he wants Tsuna to miss out on a group hangout to get the shit kicked out of him in the flower garden outside. Maybe if he can swing down from the balcony, Reborn won’t follow him, but that’s highly unlikely.

 

“Yeah.” Reborn checked his watch like there was nothing wrong with that statement whatsoever. “No!” Tsuna all but screams as he taps his foot impatiently on the floor. “I’m going out with Haru today. We already made plans.

 

“Well, then you’re just going to have to cancel plans with your girlfriend.”

 

“Haru isn’t my girlfriend, and you aren’t my Dad. I don’t fucking know you that well.”

 

Reborn clicked his tongue in distaste. Rolling his eyes as if this were a temper tantrum rather than an issue of importance. No way in hell Tsuna is going to roll over with his arms spread and tell Reborn to go ahead and kick him for all its worth. If that were an offer on the table, then most of the town would already be lined up to get their shot.

 

“Don’t be a baby, Tsuna. You’ll have plenty of time to go out with your girlfriend another time.” Something ticks. Maybe it’s a fact both Iemitsu and Nana disregard him that way or that Tsuna is genuinely looking forward to a treat or the fact that Reborn doesn’t know a goddamn thing about him yet thinks he can walk up and set up Tsuna’s future for him and make demands. Parents are one thing but now even a weird Uncle who he’d only known a few days.

 

“If you must know! I’m gay!” Tsuna snaps, snatching his shoes off the rack by the door. “And I’d appreciate it if everyone could fuck off and stop thinking they’re allowed to dictate who I become. No one even gave a shit about me until a couple of weeks ago, leave me alone!” At the sight of Reborn’s ingenuine smile, Tsuna slammed the door behind him.

 

He cried the whole way to the cafe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsut kidding i'm making it 3 chapters because i wrote too much and didn't have a way to properly end if i cram everything into one chapter lmao. slow as usual but im hoping this makes up for the time it takes. love ny'all i will be back


	3. red string: part 2

Tsuna sat eating marble cake and cream cheese frosting with one hand over his eyes. Unfortunately, eating cake that way is challenging and even more so when several people attempt at removing the hand from your face time to time. He isn't ready to talk about it yet. And now he regrets coming instead of skipping out and leaving them to enjoy a happy afternoon surrounded by sweets and friends with eager smiles.

 

Out of all people Kyoko, “Kay” as he’d nicknamed her, was prying the most. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have been born as a fuck-up crossbreed of his Mother's greatest disappointment and his Father’s battered pride. He doesn't care much about how Iemitsu feels though because from day one he's always been that man's little burden. All those years without a father around can tell him that.

 

He's tired of sulking but whenever his brain helpfully wanders back to the Reborn scenario it only succeeds in making him upset all over again. And he's tired of being upset nowadays. Too many nights when he lies awake with thoughts of loneliness tumbling head over heels inside his mind. It's silly, Tsuna supposed, to hold onto all of these rocky emotions and remain pissed at Reborn. But he's allowed that, at least for an hour more if anything.

 

Ugh, life is far more stressful than it’d began which is saying _a lot._ Considering the first moment he'd started to walk his socks caused him to slip, and it was all downhill after that. Sometimes even in a literal sense.

 

“Tsuna-kun, could I speak with you for a bit?” He blinked. When had Kyoko wiggled her chair up next to his? Her hand still cupped near his ear, and Tsuna fights the urge to swat it away, but as if sensing his discomfort Kyoko drops it into her lap, looking expectantly down at him. Haru side-eyes him, meaning, “go now.”

 

“Guess I have time.” Despite his protesting body, Tsuna chances one bite of cake haphazardly shoved into his face. Might as well at least get a taste of what he’d come for before bawling all over the sidewalk. Again. If Kyoko notices him swipe a hand across his nose, she doesn’t comment on it, instead of taking his limp hand and guiding him out front.

 

He expects a “what is wrong with you?” maybe even a, “why are you ruining our good time?” but instead Kyoko surprises him by shoving a folded napkin against one of his swollen, tear-puckered eyes. Her expression was soft, but also angry. And he’s never felt so baffled since sixth grade when his classmates threw one of his shoes into an air duct. Tsuna never did find it until three days before graduation when a lowerclassman threw his notebook up there with the shoe. “Who was it?” Three words.

 

Somewhere within his foggy brain it only half-clicks, “what?” Is his hearing finally going bad? Takeshi would say something like that, maybe Haru if she were angry enough. But from a gentle classmate, he hadn’t expected her to be someone sticking up for Useless Tsuna, a future gas station attendant who still uses fingers to count. Her face pulled into a frown. And then there’s a sad smile from her that can’t be placed as pitying but Tsuna can never be sure if he’s ever sure of much. Maybe that Iemitsu is an asshole, but that much is obvious. “Someone made you cry, Tsu-kun. Who was it?” He doesn’t deserve her. He never will.

 

“Oh, I just stubbed my foot. It’s bothering me.” Nice going dumbass. So Tsuna knows he isn’t the best at lying, this takes to another level if Kyoko’s snort is anything to go by. Would it be stupid to trust someone so early on? Probably, but then again, what’s one more hurt. Being ‘friends’ never stopped anyone from purposely tearing him down before. Ha. “You’re a good guy. But you’re also a terrible liar.  And whoever it was is a terrible person.” She says it with such confidence. As if that’s exactly how things are because _Sasagawa Kyoko said so,_ that would be nice. And sweet is a luxury. Despite himself, Tsuna cracked a grin, how could he not? She fills him with such warm, bubbly feelings of care. She’ll be the fifth finger of people who care that Tsuna can count on one hand, hopefully. He was never good at pretending things are okay. Tsuna went boneless in her arms, shuddering with choked sobs that bubble up while you try to force them down.

 

“They’re trying to tell me what’s best for myself. Kay― I need to be able to trust you with this. I don’t care about rumors, but they’re harder to live with sometimes.” Kyoko grips his shoulders harder for purchase; he hardly noticed the minuscule action because she’s hugging him. And listening. And he doesn’t know where the fuck all of this is coming from, but it would be nice to tell someone not related to the situation. “He still calls me Kyoko.”

 

“I don’t,” Kyoko jerked, scrambling for words above her confusion. It doesn’t piece together, and she doesn’t know who ‘he’ is precisely but why would anyone call Tsunayoshi by that name. _By her name?_ Pieces are lining up to create a picture but what it is doesn’t make sense.

 

“Listen, when I was born, the doctor thought I was something else,” Tsuna mumbles into her wetting shoulder, and Kyoko is hanging on to every word. “The hospital thought I was a girl.” _Oh._ “So my parents named me accordingly. Well, more like my Mom, Dad was away for that bit. He still thinks I’m a girl. Recently― I went to visit him across the world. Everybody thought I was playing hooky and I’m comfortable telling you this because actually― I don’t know. But I went there to yell at him, and I did.”

 

Her brain can hardly follow. “This man came back with me. And today, he said Haru is my girlfriend. I told him that she isn’t― but he wouldn’t stop talking like he was and I guess I’m upset because adults have never treated me like I’m smart enough― worth it enough to decide who I am. That’s all,” Tsuna sniffed, shuddered. “I’m having a pissbaby fit.” When Tsuna mumbles that into the fabric of her shirt, Kyoko sees red.

 

There’s nothing quite like being spun around in a complete circle; shoulders gripped by hands that could crush you and looking at the school’s kindest idol square in the eyes as her expression burns holes into your retinas. There’s nothing like having the wind knocked out of you by mere words. “Sawada Tsunayoshi I’ve only properly known you for three hours total, and I would beat up a whole group of bullies for you.”

 

“Isn’t that a bit―”

 

“No! Shut up!”

 

Kyoko shook Tsuna enough for his jaw to snap shut. Looking flushed in the cheeks. “You’re allowed to be upset. I don’t know that man or his relation to your situation, but he isn’t allowed to make assumptions based on what _he_ thinks you to be! As far as your dad, I’m guessing that’s Iemitsu is concerned, he can fuck right off. If you’re a boy, then that’s the truth. We’re going to be best friends, you and I.” He let out a stifled sniffle as she wiped his eyes once more. Face set in grim determination.

 

“Feeling better?” She asks after his nose is blown, eyes are dry, and chest is feeling significantly lighter than it’s felt in weeks. He nods rapidly, still too blown away for words. “Good! Let’s go eat some cake before Haru starts grazing off of your plate. Mine too, I want that strawberry creme.”

 

Tsuna finishes three slices after that. And Haru helps.

* * *

  


The rest of the week passed in a blur of avoiding Reborn and dodging Iemitsu like some professional sport. Grass stains, awkward smiles, before class chats, and stressing over schooling occupied the rest of Tsuna’s spare time. That and attempting not to melt into a puddle when Hibari stops to tell him “hurry along,” and god, it wasn’t even that real of a conversation Tsuna is just a professional at feeling oddly fluttery around the prefect. They’re friends― kind of? There’s a group of butterflies upsetting his stomach.

 

No one texts him in class. No one texts him at all. Except for Reborn just now it would seem and his poor propositioning skills. Tsuna feels bitter about their whole exchange, it’s a good thing peppermint leaves have a calming smell, or he’d be a nervous wreck. Tsuna can already feel his stomach eating itself out of anxiety.

 

That’s how after class on Monday found him. Splayed out on the grass, counting clouds too malformed to take shape. Sketchbook spread open on his chest, (though he isn’t any good) hand half-propped to absently sketch lazy clouds. Their forms go from big to small and sometimes if he sees a face inside of one Tsuna sketches that one too. Takeshi is a whole field across pitching home-runs. No one needs towel boy Sawada today and thank the lord for that because he isn’t in the mood to be nagged and nitpicked.

 

And then Hibird, a curious thing Hibari snatched from a bird peddler who was actually a closeted scammer and bonded accidentally to hopped along the greenest patches of grass to settle in the mass of his hair. It isn’t as if Tsuna has planned on sitting up anytime soon. But if Hibird is here, then Hibari must come looking for him at some point.

 

“Meh,” Tsuna shrugged lightly turning a new page. The new doodle of Hibird nearly done with his coal-black pinprick eyes and sizeable orange beak. Shaky music notes unintentionally imply that he’s a terrible singer. Maybe he is but Tsuna isn’t much higher.

 

“Don’t shrug off kidnapping my bird.” Oh my, isn’t Hibari tall as he towers over? Growth spurt? Tsuna wouldn’t be surprised if there were one. The little yellow bird chirps “Hibari! Hibari!” in greeting but makes no move from his makeshift nest of chestnut hairs. The smug thing looks comfortable and content to be here, right where he is despite Hibari’s obvious displeasure.

 

“I don’t think this counts as kidnapping… probably, a movie night with Takeshi on Thursday?” Tsuna doesn’t dare lift his head for fear of disturbing Hibird so he can only make a slightly protesting sound as Kyoya lifts the book off of his chest, idly scanning the shaky drawing of his companion and settling into the grass beside them.

 

“I ought to bite you for changing the subject, but I like this, so I’m keeping it.” Hibari points to the sketch to which Tsuna makes a hand movement permitting him to do so. Not that Kyoya needed permission anyway. “And only if you two choose something entertaining.”

 

“Action film, got it,” Tsuna says over the sound of tearing paper and fluttering wings. Somewhere off in the distance a bat meets its target with a crack. And things are peaceful like this. Previously it had been himself in a tree, eating cracker packs alone and counting down the hours until high school graduation which progressed to awkward lunches with Yamamoto and Hibari, sometimes reaching across the other’s lap to snatch a roll of egg and end up smacked on the hand.

 

Things have changed a lot since middle school.

 

But Tsuna isn’t willing to let Reborn change them into something potentially worse. If things went his way, which they never do, he’d never be a part of this stupid mafia shebang. What’s so good about profiting off the suffering of others anyhow? He’s going to build his family.

 

But Tsuna isn’t going to build a family on pre-destined foundations of Vongola ties. He’ll choose who he wants, who he needs, and who needs him in return. He’ll select them all, and it doesn’t matter what a legacy or lineage implies for the future.

 

He’s going to gather a flock.

 

And if someone were to say otherwise, then, who asked anyway? There are so many more hurdles from here on out if only Tsuna had known that if just someone had warned him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ao3 won't let me update the chat fic or post a new chat fic which sucks like bitch it really all went wrong. that motivated me enough with pure spite and determination to finish something and invest myself which, i havent done much of lately theres a lot going on. 
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoyed the actual final chapter and im sorry about the test earlier i wanted to make sure i could post this!

**Author's Note:**

> for this bit it's a two-parter bc it wouldn't make much sense to divide it into 2 one-shots lmao. let me know what you think and Witch Tsuna is coming soon >:3


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